


Punching in a Dream

by OpheliaDusk



Category: Persona 5
Genre: F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-14
Updated: 2020-01-14
Packaged: 2021-02-25 16:02:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22258909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OpheliaDusk/pseuds/OpheliaDusk
Summary: Ryuji isn't sure whether Haru's looking for a companion, a date, or a bodyguard, but whichever it is, no way he's turning her down.
Relationships: Okumura Haru/Sakamoto Ryuji
Comments: 22
Kudos: 252





	Punching in a Dream

**Author's Note:**

> The inspiration for this was wondering just how the hell Haru gets out of her engagement if you don't near-max her confidant by the end of the game. It's hard! I barely did it! The other inspiration was fake dating is my favorite trope. The third inspiration is I don't know how to live if not in rarepair hell. I checked the creation date of the file and I've been working on this fic for APPARENTLY 1 year 11 months so uh, it's been simmerin

**RYUJI.** dude shes gettin jacked

**RYUJI.** just watch you’re gonna get out and she’s gonna give you a hug and pop your head right off

**RYUJI.** the muscle dudes that hang out there after work know her by name

**RYUJI.** i keep tellin her she should hire em as bodyguards

**RYUJI.** but she goes ~No, I’ll hire Mako-chan!~ and i don’t think shes kidding

**RYUJI.** a dangerous amt of our girl friends could prob kick my ass what the hell

“ _Ten_!” Haru squeaked out, arms shaking. Ryuji slipped his hands under the barbell, helping her lift it back up onto the rack. 

“Good job,” he said with a grin, as she sat up on the bench, face pink. “Congrats. Another thirty pounds, and you’ll officially be able to bench press more than me.”

“Really?” Haru said, smiling up at him. “Well, you’ll just have to work harder, then! You can’t spend all day on the leg press, you know!”

“Watch me,” Ryuji shot back, as she stood up and wiped down the bench. “C’mon, time to own my ass at stretching.”

Three weeks ago, just after their group had made a dismal attempt at a cheerful New Year’s shrine visit, Haru had pulled him aside to ask for his help. “It’s just that I’m so tightly wound these days. I miss doing so much physical activity in Mementos, but I don’t want to embarrass myself…” she’d explained, the smile she’d plastered on her face that morning growing threadbare. A week after Akira’s arrest, they were all doing the best they could, but as the initial firebrand optimism wore down into the grey slog of buttering up connections, late nights in front of the computer, and tireless canvassing, their good spirits were already waning. The biggest bummer of it all, as far as Ryuji was concerned, was that they’d changed so many people through supernatural weirdness— hell, they’d even shot some kind of god in the head— and in the end, they were having to fall back on tired old regular ways to clear their leader’s name. Haru had been talking to her father’s connections, but the way she’d said it Ryuji had a sneaking suspicion “talking to” really meant “bribing”. He wondered if it bothered her, working within the same traditional channels of power she’d openly disdained. Once he figured out how to put it, he might even ask her.

“Hell yeah, let’s pick up some heavy shit,” he’d said instead, and she’d beamed at him. Three times a week since then they’d spent an hour or two in the evening at Ryuji’s favorite gym in Shibuya. The first day, Haru had barely been able to complete half an hour on the treadmill, and he’d had to teach her the basics of lifting from the ground up— her strength was impressive for someone who didn’t make a habit of exercise, but if she didn’t learn to use her legs instead of her back, she’d herniate a disc by the time she was thirty. And then at the end of the session she’d sank down into a split on her yoga mat and touched her head to her knee like she was made of rubber bands.

He’d let a swear escape before he could catch himself; laughing, she’d explained that she’d taken ballet until she was twelve and gymnastics until she was fifteen. (Somehow, Haru never seemed to stop throwing him off-balance, in her skills and her reactions and in her very presence.) Since then she’d made it her personal mission to wring him out like a washcloth until his tendons screamed for mercy.

“Too far?” she asked now, pushing down on his back as he struggled to wrap his fingers around his toes

“‘m fine!” he let out in a strangled voice. The backs of his calves were burning like overstretched rubber bands. He was starting to wonder if he might be a masochist. 

By the time they left the building, soft flakes of snow were falling out of the sky, the night lit up grey and flat by the reflections of city lights even though it was past dusk. Ryuji snuck a sideways glance at Haru’s delighted expression. A few tendrils of hair had escaped her high ponytail to curl around her face, framing it in softness. 

“Beautiful, isn’t it, Ryuji-kun?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. Snow’s great,” he agreed, looking away and rubbing the back of his neck. Hey, he was only human, right? Nothing wrong with stealing a glimpse of a pretty face. It wasn’t that he’d never thought about it, but any way he looked at it, Haru was so far out of his league she was probably playing an entirely different sport. 

They waited on the curb for Haru’s driver to pick her up (she always offered Ryuji a ride, and he always declined, unsure that the large foreign car would even fit down his neighborhood’s narrow streets). Ryuji leaned casually against the metal streetlight, while Haru stood ramrod-straight with her perfect posture, hands clutching her gym bag. 

“I licked one of these once,” Ryuji reflected, with a sideways grin, craning his neck to look up at the flakes dancing in the glow of the streetlight. 

“What? Why?” Haru looked as if she wasn’t sure whether to laugh or be appalled.

“Got dared,” Ryuji explained, as if it was obvious. “It was winter, I said there was no way someone’s tongue would stick to the cold pole, and this kid in my class said yeah it would, and I said prove it, and he said no _you_ prove it, and…”

“…and your tongue got stuck?” Haru finished, a giggle escaping as she pictured it.

“Took the teacher ten minutes to figure out how to get me un-stuck. I was crying, she was crying, the other kids were crying…” He was laughing now, though, with the benefit of ten years’ distance. “Man, I was such a little shit. Always getting into trouble.”

“Well, you’re not so little any more,” Haru said so easily that Ryuji nodded in agreement before he caught the joke. He groaned and rolled his eyes, heaving a theatrical sigh as she giggled. “I’m sorry, was that too mean?”

“Brutal, Haru. You’ve been hanging around with me too much, with a comeback like that.“

“Impossible.” Haru bit her lip, forehead wrinkling. “I hope you don’t really think that, Ryuji-kun. I value the time we spend together.”

Ryuji rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. No matter how long he spent around Haru, he would never not be surprised by her penchant to abruptly say nice things about her friends. She wasn’t done talking, either; as her shoulders relaxed, she tilted her head to the side. “Actually… I have a favor to ask you. I feel bad, since you’ve already been helping me out so much…”

“Nah, don’t worry about it,” he said easily, back on familiar ground. He’d never admit it, but when he was a little kid watching TV shows about knights and heroes, he’d thought it might be nice to one day be the one rescuing the princess. Not that Haru particularly needed rescuing, but there was nothing wrong with being weak to a pretty face and gentle demeanor. “What’s up?”

“Well, there’s a reception happening this Friday, for a new hotel the Shimagawa group is opening up. I need to touch base with several of the attendees, but these kinds of events are always so tiring, and I don’t really have any particular friends among the guests, so… if it’s not too much of a bother, would you come with me?” 

Ryuji furrowed his brow, not sure he’d heard correctly. “Sorry, what? You want _me_ to go to some fancy rich people shindig? Have you _met_ me?” He exhaled a half-sigh, half-laugh. “Why not ask Yusuke?”

“I will, if you aren’t interested. I’m sorry if it’s a bothersome favor to ask.” Haru ducked her head, hands clasped in front of her, then looked up and met his eyes beseechingly. “They’re all the same. The events, I mean. Everyone formal and polite, but in the back of their heads always looking for the next company president to hitch their chariot to or the next scandal they can use as leverage. It’s a game I can play, when I have to, but that doesn’t mean I enjoy it. If I have to go, I just want to know that there’s one person in the room with me who’s… real.”

Ryuji couldn’t immediately find a reply to that, still looking somewhat stunned at Haru’s wide, pleading eyes. Her cheeks were pink with the cold, and flakes of snow were landing gently on her lashes, melting as he watched. She took his silence for hesitation, and forged onward. “If there’s anything I can do for you in exchange, let me know. I’ll have a suit ordered for you. And there’ll be plenty of free food at the opening. But if there’s anything else—“

“Whoa, whoa, Haru,” Ryuji said, holding up his hands. “You don’t need to negotiate. And I don’t need anything. Although I’m already looking forward to the food,” he added with a grin. “We’re friends, right? Of course I’ll go with you. What, you thought I was gonna say no to a fancy-schmancy night out with a pretty girl?”

Haru smiled and shook her head. “You flatterer. But, you know. I should probably warn you…”

“Oh, crap. This is about the forks, isn’t it.”

“—what? What forks?”

“You know. The forks! My mom watches these western romance movies sometimes, right? And there’s always a scene where someone goes to some fancy-ass banquet and gets confused ‘cause there’s like six forks. No worries,” he added with a shit-eating grin. “Promise I won’t eat with my hands.”

“Well, actually…”

“Yeah?”

“…The catering will be mostly canapés and other hors d’oeuvres,” Haru said after a brief pause. As usual, Ryuji’s sunny enthusiasm had shone through the gathering clouds, and she didn’t quite have the heart to start over with what she’d actually meant to say. “So in most cases, eating with your hands will be the polite thing to do!”

“Aw, _man_. You mean I watched all those movies with my mom for nothing?”

“Don’t be silly! I’m sure she loved having you there.” Haru laughed lightly as her car pulled around the corner.

Oh, well. Maybe it would come to nothing. 

**RYUJI.** [ hotshit.jpg ]

**RYUJI.** ya boy’s all swagged out for a hot date

**RYUJI.** lol sike. harus got some fancy function and i’m keepin her company

**RYUJI.** this suits pretty dope tho right

**RYUJI.** man. for real tho. i know this’d be you if you were here

**RYUJI.** i’ll do you proud man

Haru clutched her skirts in preparation to exit the car. “No, no, hold on—“ Ryuji yelped. Haru looked over at him curiously, but by the time she turned her head, he was halfway out of the car. He ran around the car, shooing away the doorman who had been approaching. Instead he opened Haru’s door himself, beaming at her.

“ _Madame_ ,” he said, offering his arm.

“ _Enchantee,_ ” she replied with a smile, placing a delicate hand on the smooth fabric of his sleeve. “ _Allons-y!_ ”

“Uh… _merci_?” Ryuji offered as they walked up towards the gilded revolving doors leading into the hotel. “Kinda blew my load on the French already. Sorry,” he added, feeling his ears go slightly red. “Man, I keep forgetting I gotta be on my best behavior here.”

“You really don’t,” Haru said, patting his arm comfortingly. “You can blow your load anywhere you like.”

Ryuji swallowed. He was _pretty_ sure Haru didn’t know what she was saying, when she borrowed phrases from him like that, but that last sliver of doubt was always enough to make him extremely nervous. 

Haru looked like a fish swimming in the sea the moment she entered the event ballroom, chin erect, a small smile on her lips. Ryuji, in contrast, was pretty sure he looked like a moose that had accidentally fallen into a pond. The suit he was wearing somehow fit him too perfectly; he had never realized until he shrugged into the tailored suit jacket that maybe his usual one-size-fits-all shirts… well, didn’t. He’d never seen his reflection in his own polished dress shoes, either. His hair had been gelled into behaving, making him look almost like some kind of pop star. The hairstylist had even trimmed his _eyebrows_. And under all that pomp and shine, he felt like crawling out of his own skin. 

He wasn’t a poet, but if he’d had to put a name to the feeling, it was this: looking around the room, he’d bet a million yen that not one person there had a single store-brand item in their refrigerator. It was pissing him off. What’s so bad about store-brand, huh? Half the time it’s the same damn manufacturer, they just slap a different label on it and charge two hundred yen more (his mother had explained to him, when he followed her around in the grocery store as a child). He sure as shit didn’t belong here— but then he remembered the girl next to him, petite and determined in a frilly rose-colored gown she wore like a second skin, and took a deep breath. Whatever he imagined these rich bastards would think about him, he could take it.

A waiter in crisp black and white offered them a tray of crystal glasses, each with a single perfect raspberry floating in them. Ryuji followed Haru’s lead in taking one, but made a face once he sniffed the glass.

“Guess they don’t check ID here,” he said, half-joking, half nervous he was going to get in trouble. Hey, look, everybody! Some punk-ass high schooler snuck in and conned his way into free booze! Get the handcuffs! “What is this? Wine?”

“Umm… it’s champagne,” Haru said, after taking a tiny, polite sip. “I think it’s assumed that if you’re old enough to behave yourself at one of these functions, you’re old enough for a glass.” She shrugged, the everyday gesture made elegant by the fluttering of her chiffon sleeves. “I don’t mind it paired with food, but I usually slip off and pour most of it out, and mix what’s left with some seltzer. If I asked for juice instead, it would be another excuse for them to think of me as a child.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Ryuji agreed. “Be right back.” Part of him was tempted to see what all the fuss was about— some kind of fancy-ass foreign wine was probably different enough from the cheap beer that took up a shelf in the fridge when his father was still around— but the rest of him could picture clear as day the expression on his mom’s face if he came home with alcohol on his breath, even if it probably cost ten thousand yen a bottle. He didn’t really want to leave Haru alone, though, both because he was still half-convinced he was going to get himself thrown out of here and because (in his head) he was basically her bodyguard tonight. Also, he wasn’t exactly sure where to find seltzer, and would far rather leave the hotel entirely and find a vending machine than ask a waiter. So instead, he took a few shuffling steps sideways to a large potted plant, and after removing the raspberry on principle (fresh fruit is expensive), he quickly dumped the champagne into the soil.

Instead of absorbing into the dirt, it kind of… sat there, floating on the top, percolating slowly down the sides of the pot. “Shit,” Ryuji muttered under his breath as he popped the raspberry into his mouth and felt the leaves of the plant. Was it fake? It felt kinda rubbery, but maybe some plants are like that? Doesn’t rubber come from plants, or something? He turned around to call “Hey, Haru—“

Haru still stood where he’d left her, but she’d gone rigid in a way that he could’t quite define. Both hands were curled around her glass, and her shoulders were set. A woman walking by greeted her in passing, and Haru turned her head and laughed her tinkling laugh at whatever charming comment the woman apparently made, but it was too high-pitched to be natural, and Ryuji was back at her side before he could think. 

Haru jumped when he put a hand on her shoulder, and he instantly withdrew it; she caught it with her own hand, though, twining her fingers into his, half-turning to face him over her shoulder in a way that made him gulp. She laughed again, as if he’d said something extremely charming and a little devilish, tilted her head, and murmured:

“Glass doors to the garden. Left side, next to the woman in blue.”

It took a moment, but Ryuji got his bearings and looked over the top of Haru’s head. There, where she indicated, talking to a girl Ryuji thought he half-recognized from one of Ann’s magazine spreads, was shitstain of the week, Mr. Turd-wrapped-in-a-designer-suit himself, Sugimura. 

“C’mon,” he muttered, yanking gently on the hand he was still holding, pulling Haru through the crowd, casting around for a getaway route. What he _wanted_ to do was march over there and throw a punch or two, but that would probably get Haru in trouble, and him kicked out, or possibly arrested, so he decided he’d only do it with Haru’s express permission.

They wound up in the hallway leading to the bathrooms, brightly lit but reasonably private. Ryuji dropped Haru’s hand, and punched one fist into his other hand, gritting his teeth.

“What’s that asshole doing here?”

Haru shook her head, and bit her lip. “Everyone who’s anyone is here. I thought there was a chance, but it’s such a large event… he was looking at me, I know he spotted me. I suppose… I panicked a little.”

“Oh. Ohhh. So that’s why—“ 

“I’m sorry! I should have told you.” To Ryuji’s surprise, Haru bowed from her waist, looking genuinely contrite. “It’s true what I said about enjoying your company, but I should have… I tried to tell you, I did, but I just couldn’t get it out!” She straightened back up, but covered her face with her hands. “I’m not very brave. I just didn’t… I didn’t want you to think I was using you, so…”

This was bigger than Ryuji thought, but he’s never been able to stop words once they’re halfway out of his mouth, no matter how hard he tries. “So that’s why you were getting all touchy-feely back there?”

“I just thought, maybe… maybe if he saw me with someone else, he’d give up.”

“You mean— wait, even after your dad, he’s still—“

“He says there’s a contract,” she said miserably, pulling her hands down her face to peek out above them.

“What? Can he do that? Can’t you just say no?”

“I… I think he can,” she answered. “At the very least, the board of directors is pressuring me to go along with it. I think I make them uncomfortable. I know they’d rather have to deal with a man.”

“Horseshit.” Ryuji let out an irritated huff. “So what are we gonna do about it?”

“You don’t have to do anything. I’m so sorry, you can leave now if you want—“

“No, no! Look, I—“ Ryuji ruffles the back of his carefully combed and gelled hair, heedless of the styling job. “Sorry. That came out wrong. Maybe Ann was right and I gotta tone problem. What I meant was, if you think having a dude on your arm would make him back down, do you want me to pretend to be your boyfriend? Like, for real?”

Haru’s eyes widened; she clasped her hands to her chest. “You’d really do that? I don’t want to embarrass you, or make you uncomfortable…”

“Do you really think I’d be embarrassed if people think I’m dating you? Haru, you’re… you’re _kickass_ ,” Ryuji said, and then watched his soul curl up into a little ball inside of him. He’d meant to say gorgeous, but 1. he wasn’t really the type of dude to use words like gorgeous and 2. that wasn’t remotely his favorite thing about Haru, anyway. And so his three brain cells somehow came out with _kick-ass_. He bet Akira’d never accidentally called a girl kick-ass.

To his surprise, though, Haru seemed to like it, or at least take it in stride. She clasped one of his hands in both of hers, smiling a little impishly, as Ryuji reeled at the sudden change in circumstances. “Well, then… shall we?”

We shalln’t, Ryuji wanted to say. Let us un-shall. He felt like he needed about fifteen more minutes to adjust to this change in circumstances without his ears going red like a tomato every time he thought about it too much— but Haru had a firm set to her shoulders and a sparkle in her eye that meant she was ready for battle, so he guessed he was going to have to learn to work with about fifteen seconds. 

Their first challenge came quickly upon exiting the annex. Loitering around outside was the girl in blue that Sugimura had been talking to, and Ryuji would have bet money on her snooping on purpose. 

“Oh, _hello_ , Okumura-san!” she twittered, eyes laser-focused on Haru and Ryuji’s hands, still clasped together. “Hisashi’s been telling me _so_ much about you. I’ve been wanting to meet you for such a long time now!”

Ryuji rubbed the back of his head with his free hand. _Hisa-who? —Ohh, that must be the bastard’s first name—_ He’d never been too up on the kind of conversations with subtext, but even he could tell that the girl was name-dropping to try and get a reaction out of Haru. And then she turned her head a certain way, and that train of thought derailed completely. 

“Aah!” Ryuji yelped, pointing at the girl suddenly and making both her and Haru jump. “It’s you!”

“It’s who?” Haru asked, faintly.

“You! Mika! You’re that model! The one who was in _Cawaii_ last month!”

Mika, nonplussed, rallied admirably, only slightly dropping her pretense of friendliness. “Oh, I— are you a fan? You didn’t strike me as someone who reads girls’ fashion magazines…”

“Oh, I don’t,” Ryuji said easily. “But Ann said you really tried to horn in on her center spread. She’s one of Ann’s model friends, kinda,” he said as an aside to Haru, who nodded in understanding.

“Don’t nod like you understand,” Mika snapped at her. “She’s not my friend! She’s barely a coworker!”

“I see,” said Haru pleasantly, with the same set to her shoulders that Ryuji had seen just before she walloped an enemy already reeling from a status effect. “It’s lovely to meet you, Mika-san. I’ve heard so much about you from Ann-chan. This is my boyfriend, Ryuji. It’s been a secret for a little while now, but it seems like you’ve caught us. Well, then, we’d better be going…”

Ryuji found himself hauled away by Haru’s arm in his, tripping over his feet to keep up. It wasn’t until they’d rejoined the mingling movers and shakers of the world that Haru giggled.

“What a stroke of luck!”

“Huh?” Ryuji said, tilting his head. 

“She doesn’t like Ann-chan very much. Or at the very least, they’re rivals, correct? And now Mika-san knows that I’m Ann-chan’s friend, and that I’ve been carrying on a secret relationship, she’s almost certainly going to go to the tabloids to try and get a leg up on her!”

“Huh,” Ryuji said, wonderingly. “Girls sure are scary.”

“Yes,” Haru agreed pleasantly. “Well, sometimes we have to be. Would you like to try some brie?”

Even the knowledge that he was eating fancy imported cheeses didn’t make the brie palatable to Ryuji, and Haru laughed kindly at his face as he tried to swallow it. (He liked making Haru laugh, even at his own expense. The fact that he’d eat a gallon of this disgusting cheese just to see the tension in her face disappear was making his palms sweat every time she took his hand to lead him to a different table.) He was much more of a fan of the cheddar, and of the centerpiece of intricate shapes carved out of mango and pineapple. As he munched away, he listened admiringly to Haru’s conversations. She seemed to at least have a passing acquaintance with everyone in the ballroom, and if Ryuji didn’t know better, he’d think she genuinely enjoyed the conversations.

“Honestly, Fukai-san, I’m not even convinced that anything at all happened around Christmas. Don’t you think the media rather overblew the whole Phantom Thief situation? Let’s say there was some sort of natural gas leak…”

“My father? Between you and me, my father had no shortage of enemies wishing to do him harm. Poison isn’t quite a modern weapon, but— oh, your husband works for the Asahi Shinbun, Suzuki-san? Really? I had no idea. An interview? Well, I’m not sure if I would be very interesting, but if he’s willing to bear with my inexperience…”

“Yes, we attend the same high school. Everyone was quite shocked at his imprisonment. Nobody really thinks he was capable of that kind of thing. My boyfriend and he were quite close. I’m sure that as a defense attorney, Nishimoto-san, you understand the problem of coerced confessions better than anyone…”

“You’re amazing, Haru,” Ryuji said after gulping down his fifth tuna tartare, watching Nishimoto walk away after promising to have a chat with some of his colleagues back at the office. 

“My father never taught me anything,” Haru said quietly. “Not how to run a company, and not how to manage people. But I’ve been watching him my entire life, and you don’t have to be taught to learn.”

Ryuji tucked that in the back of his head for later, because something rather more urgent was approaching. “Haru.”

“Hmm?”

“Startin’ to think we should have planned this out a little more.”

She tilted her head, wrinkling her eyebrows. “What? Oh— why?”

“Because Sugimura’s on his way, and he’s looking _pissed_.”

Haru didn’t turn around to follow Ryuji’s gaze; she merely twisted her fingers into the front of his jacket, tightened her lips, and gave a firm nod, her shoulders set. She was nervous. Ryuji could feel her hand trembling, and hated Sugimura more for it. “I’m ready.”

“Haru. You surprise me. I truly didn’t think you were quite _this_ dim.” Sugimura stopped in front of them, dress shoes clicking on the marble flooring, eyes narrowed, chin lifted scornfully. “I expected you to do your duty and accompany me. I was kind enough to accept your protests of another engagement. And yet you take advantage of my generosity to flaunt boorish behavior under my nose. Did you think I wouldn’t _notice_?”

“Dude, you were really gonna just suck it up and marry this guy?” Ryuji muttered under his breath into Haru’s ear, her hair tickling his nose. She inhaled deeply.

“I expected you to notice,” she said. Her voice was firm, but she was fiddling with her bracelet, betraying her nerves. “You didn’t listen when I spoke to you on the phone, and you didn’t listen when I spoke to you privately in person. So.” She inhaled deeply. “I’m not going to marry you. I— I refuse to marry you!”

Ryuji heard a bit of Noir in there, and more than a bit of Beauty Thief, and he bit off a delighted kind of laugh. He didn’t stifle it quickly enough to keep Sugimura from noticing, though, and he turned his attentions to Ryuji with disdain dripping off of him.

“Was this the best you could find?” he drawled, and it’s not the insult to him that Ryuji really cares about. It’s the insult to Haru, the insinuation that she could somehow be tarnished by someone else. “Or did you think some kind of teenage punk would infuriate me more than anything else?”

He seemed cool and collected, but Ryuji, with a perceptiveness he hadn’t known he possessed, noticed his eye was twitching. In that moment he understood, understood why he seemed so set on a girl he didn’t even seem to like that much, why he was so openly cruel to a fiance who might have accepted him had he only acted with the barest of pleasant indifference. And in that moment he ceased feeling uncomfortable in the situation, ceased feeling out of his depth and intimidated by all this wealth and privilege.

Sugimura was just a bully. That was all. Just a bully in an expensive suit, looking for a punching bag. Insecure about his position, angry at people that he thought looked down on him. Taking it out on a girl who’d had wealth and influence from the cradle, just because he thought she wouldn’t fight back. And Ryuji knew how to deal with bullies by now. He hadn’t raised a hand to defend himself against his father, and he’d let Kamoshida push him and push him until he barely knew who he was, but he’d be damned if he’d let Haru suffer. 

“He’s weak, and you’re strong,” he muttered, turning his head so Sugimura wouldn’t hear him. “You know you are. Keep it up. Hit him where it hurts.”

It was her battle. That was the important thing about bullies— nobody else could take them down for you, or else they’d always be there, in the back of your mind, under your skin, whispering in your ear. It was her battle, but Ryuji would damn well be right behind her.

“I’ll give you one more chance,” Sugimura said, half-warning, half-patronizing, as if he was scolding a toddler who kept throwing a toy out of the window. 

A muscle moved in Haru’s jaw. She was thinking hard, eyes focused on the middle distance, looking at Sugimura without seeing him.

“Or what?” she said, calmly, quietly, not raising her voice, and yet somehow the hair on Ryuji’s arms went up.

Sugimura’s eye twitched, his facade slipping as he hissed “I can make your life a living hell—“

“No, you can’t,” she said slowly, wonderingly. “You can’t do anything to me. I used to think you could, and I would just have to endure it. But I don’t, do I?”

“What are you going on about? I can ruin you as easily as snapping my fingers.”

“I’m not my company,” Haru said, jaw set. “I’m myself. And because you’ve never understood that, you don’t have any power over me any more.” Ryuji had noticed that she tended to twiddle her fingers when she was nervous, but now both hands were clenched in fists by her side. A few of the guests nearby were starting to murmur, heads turned in that particular angle that meant they hoped nobody noticed how hard they were listening. Haru tilted her chin up, and Ryuji swore he saw Milady behind her, echoing her movements. “I won’t marry you,” she said in a clear, carrying voice, projecting it for all the room to hear.

Sugimura’s eyes darted from side to side, taking in the muttering crowd, the interested faces. Ryuji recognized a society journalist Haru had been talking to earlier, and evidently, Sugimura did too. He jerked his head, looking like he was going to spew out another attack, but then, seeming to shrink under the gaze of the avid crowd, turned on his heel and skulked away.

**RYUJI.** BROOO we out here achievin our dreams

**RYUJI.** haru 1 rat bastard 0

**RYUJI.** bout time too. some men ain’t shit, as ann would say lol

**RYUJI.** This is Haru! Ryuji-kun refuses to take credit but it was a team effort!

**RYUJI.** We’re fired up and feeling like we can do anything :)

**RYUJI.** So hang in there just a little longer!

They tumbled into the yakitori bar, flushed and laughing, the waitress looking askance at their black-tie outfits as Ryuji asked for a table for two. They were seated in a back corner by the cook, air thick with cigarette smoke and the charred, delicious scent of grilled chicken. It made Ryuji’s mouth water as if he hadn’t just been stuffing his face with finger foods for the last hour, and he ordered several skewers for the both of them.

“And calpico soda! Two of them. Thanks.” The waitress walked away, still side-eyeing them, as Haru picked up a napkin and spread it daintily on her rose-colored dress. 

“I’m going to be very busy, starting tomorrow,” she said, still giggling. “I’m sure that whatever contract Okumura Foods had with Sugimura will have to be dug up and evaluated for the impact to the company. And his father may make things difficult for us politically.” There was an almost hysterical edge to her laughter now, and her eyes were widening. “I may have to sell some stock to pay off the damages. Oh, goodness. It may be enough that I won’t be majority shareholder any longer. There might even be a clause that my inheritance rests on—“

“Whoa, whoa, chill,” Ryuji said, reaching across the table and taking Haru’s hands in his with all the careful deliberation of a nuclear technician. She had clenched her fingers around the cheap wooden chopsticks, and Ryuji carefully pried her grip loose before she snapped them in half. “Haru. Look. Seriously. Who gives a shit?” She stared at him uncomprehendingly, and he sighed. “I mean… do you? Do you really care if, if stock prices go down, or if the CEO gets pissed off? You’re _free_ , Haru.”

“It’s a big responsibility to—“

“Do you want it?” Ryuji said bluntly. 

Haru opened her mouth to reply, but nothing came out. Her bottom lip trembled slightly, and she pulled back one hand to tuck her hair behind her ear. Ryuji quickly let go of her other hand, but she didn’t move it from where it laid on the center of the table.

“My father always told me that a business wasn’t something to be entrusted to a girl, especially one as quiet and weak as me,” she said finally. “His expectation was that I do nothing to shame the family, that I get good grades and comport myself with dignity, and that I grow up and marry well. So you see, I was never supposed to have much of anything to do with the company. I resented it, Ryuji-kun. I tried to do everything that he wanted of me, but I resented it so much that I buried that resentment down deep, because I was afraid of what would happen if I admitted it. I tried to tell myself that he was right, that I would be happy if I did what I was told, but… I wasn’t. So this is my chance, you see. To prove that I can do something right in that world after all.”

Ryuji stayed silent as the waitress returned with their drinks and a plate of chicken thighs with onion. “I don’t get it,” he admitted as he picked up a skewer and pulled a chunk of meat off with his teeth, continuing to talk despite his full mouth. “You could do anything, but—“

“But first I’m doing this,” Haru said, rounded chin jutting out firmly. “If I don’t, I’ll always be that girl who let herself be pushed aside. It’s not that I… I mean, I have a lot of bad memories around the company. It’s not that I want the responsibility, necessarily. And I don’t know if it’s the path I want my life to take in the long term. But I want to know that I can handle it, despite what my father thought of me. I think I _need_ to know that.”

Ryuji whistled under his breath, and grinned as he squirted Japanese mustard out of a bottle onto their shared plate. “‘Kay. You’ve got me convinced. You’ve got balls, Haru.”

She shook her head, but she was smiling now, as she took a skewer for herself. “I don’t. I’m not very brave… at least, not when I’m alone. I could only do that tonight because you were here with me, Ryuji-kun.”

He took several aggressive slurps of his Calpico to hide the embarrassing grin spreading across his face. Then, slamming the glass down on the table, he pointed at Haru. “Ah! Got it! You gotta talk to my mom.” Haru tilted her head with a puzzled smile, reaching for a napkin to wipe up the splash of liquid that had cleared the edge of the class. “She had a real shitty time trying to get her divorce. Had to go all the way to family court, since my dad was such a dick about it. She still gets cards from the law office on New Year’s. I mean, you probably have way fancier lawyers, but I dunno, my mom’s been through it, so…” He rubbed the back of his neck. 

Haru smiled, an honest smile that crinkled the corners of her eyes. “I’d like that, Ryuji-kun. I’d like to meet your mother very much.”

“Yeah, for sure. You just, lemme know when you’re free. Ma works nights at the hospital, so, you know. Any time.” Ryuji cleared his throat, and rubbed the back of his neck, nervous without quite knowing why. “So. Man. At least tonight was a success, right?”

“Oh, yes, of course.” Haru hesitated. She opened her mouth, then closed it again. The second time she did it, Ryuji raised his eyebrows.

“What’s up?”

“Oh, nothing!”

“Don’t gimme that.”

“Setting everything serious aside, it was more fun with you there, as I thought. It’s just…”

“Just?”

“Oh, it’s silly,” Haru protested, cheeks going pink. “I just. Well. I got the idea of pretending to date in the first place from a manga I read in middle school. And it was very… dramatic.”

“Uh-huh,” Ryuji said, not following in the slightest. 

“And the climax of the whole arc was that the heroine’s pretend boyfriend, he just…”

“Yeah?” said Ryuji, who was feeling like the team tasked with digging trapped miners out of a cave collapse on about day five. 

“—He just grabbed her and kissed her in front of everyone!” Haru said all at once, after which she grabbed her soda in both hands and downed the rest of the glass. 

Ryuji stared, as she slammed the glass back down on the table, breathing heavily.

“Oh,” Ryuji said.

“That woulda been something,” Ryuji said.

“Bet you’re probably glad you shook that tool off without doing something that drastic,” Ryuji said, desperately wishing he understood what was happening. If he didn’t know better, he’d think Haru was saying that she wished he had, but fat chance of that. Not someone like Haru. Not someone like him. 

Right?

“It would have been all right, if you had,” Haru blurted out, red-faced. She had picked up her napkin and was shredding it methodically into strips. “I’m sorry. Never mind. I must be making you—“

Ryuji reached across the table, grabbing one of her nervously frantic hands with both of his own. 

“Do you…” his voice cracked, and he cleared his throat. “You wanna go see a movie this weekend? Or there’s this new cafe I saw on my way to school, they make cats and shit out of foam on your drink. Or—“

“Yes,” Haru said, breathing out a great sigh of relief as her shoulders relaxed, breaking into a smile that made Ryuji’s stomach lurch. “I’d like that very much.”

As they finished their meal, laughing self-consciously whenever they held eye contact for a little too long, Ryuji thought that with time until the weekend to prepare he might just find himself with the confidence to kiss her after all. Yeah. Take her out on the town. Show her a good time. Show her she wasn’t making a mistake. 

That was all upended as they stood under the awning outside the yakitori bar, as Haru took him by the collar of his jacket and stood on her tiptoes, as she impishly pulled his mouth down to hers.

Ryuji was starting to like being thrown off-balance. 

**AKIRA (?).** This is Sojiro.

**AKIRA (?).** I got Ren’s phone back from the police a few days ago. Plugged it in today.

**AKIRA (?).** You ever thought about buying a journal?


End file.
